Inheritance
by Stone Jackal
Summary: The one thing he never thought anyone would ever leave him...
1. Sorrows

**Title: **Sorrows

**Summery: ** Something he never thought anyone would ever leave him.

**Disclaimer: ** I don't own'em; I'm just borrowing.

**Author's Notes: ** This has been rattling around in my head for days. I thought maybe if I pounded it out on the keyboard, it would clear up some space in my mind.

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Doctor Temperance Brennan carefully lifted the skull belonging to the eight-hundred-and- fifty-year-old Native American skeleton that was spread out across her worktable. She was finished noting all her findings, had determined cause of death, and was now in the process of packing away the skeleton with the utmost of care.

"Hey sweetie," Brennan didn't have to turn around to know who was approaching. The soft voice and click-clack noise from high-heeled shoes on the hard floor gave it away.

"Hi Ange," Brennan finished packaging the skull before looking up.

Angela Montenegro, best friend and resident artist, flipped her shiny dark hair over her shoulder, "All finished?"

"Uh-huh," Brennan set the box containing the skull on the waiting roller cart, then turned back to pack up the rest of the skeleton. The only noise in the room was the rattle of the cart and the squeak of the wheels.

"Not as exciting around here when we don't have a case," Angela observed, not so innocently, sliding her hands into her hip pockets.

"Are you trying to insinuate something?" An eyebrow raised, Brennan looked up at Angela to find her grinning slyly.

Instead of denying anything, Angela shrugged, "When'll Booth be back? We need to spice things up around here. Start investigating again." She was trying to get something out of Brennan over why she was so mopy lately. With the prolonged absence of the hunky FBI agent, it seemed like any reason for Brennan to smile had left also. She had become as monotonous as before Booth had come blustering into the lab and dragged her into the 'real world' where her only company was no longer broken down bodies but real live people.

In a tone that was almost reprimanding, and not looking up from her bones, Brennan declared, "He's at his sister-in-law's funeral Ange. Give him some time."

"She died!" Angela exclaimed, "I only knew she was sick."

Brennan nodded, "He called yesterday, said he'll still be a day or two." She didn't bother elaborating on what _else_ they had talked about in that particularly long conversation.

Angela clucked her tongue, "Poor guy."

Agreeing, Brennan nodded, "He sounded so tired over the phone."

"Did he?" Angela zoomed in, "You know his voice well enough to tell huh?"

"Yes," Brennan wasn't sure she liked the look on her friend's face.

"Hmmmmm…" The sly smile was back.

"If you're thinking what I think you're thinking, I don't like it," Brennan's brow furrowed.

"Come on Bren!" Angela's arms flew out perpendicular to her waist, palms up, fingers widespread, "You guys would be so good together!"

"You don't know that Ange," Brennan waved off any protests, "Besides, I'm not his type. He goes for beautiful, blond lawyer types, and I'm not any of those things."

"You sell yourself short," Angela admonished, "I can tell he's interested."

"How?" Brennan asked, curious inspite of herself.

"Little things," Angela smiled, "The way he looks at you, and the way he talks to you. And you two are always touching."

"We are not!" Brennan protested, though she had to admit to herself that there was some minor tidbit of truth in that.

"Are too," Angela replied, undaunted, "A hand here, an arm there. You two can't keep your hands off each other!"

"Name one time," Brennan ordered briskly.

"You fixed his tie for him the day before he left," Angela answered promptly, "And last time we were using the holograms, he grabbed your hand," At Brennan's surprised look, "You can't deny it, I saw," She then began to tick things off on her fingers, "He's the only one you allow to put their arm over the back of the seat when you sit together, and you always do. There was that time he pushed your hair back behind your ear, and the time-"

Brennan cut her off, "Angela! I said one time!"

"Well, I have a long memory when it comes to this stuff. You two always have your hands on each other."

The way she said it made Brennan cringe, "Angela, I-"

"All I'm saying Bren," Angela paused, shrugged one shoulder, "He's interested, and I know you are too," A flick of her hand close to Brennan's face quieted Brennan's pending interrupting, "The poor guy's been dropping hints like a hail storm. You have to do something. If you don't, he'll slip right through your fingers," With a one sided smile, Angela turned and walked away, leaving Brennan to think about all she had said. Brennan listened until the click-clack of Angela's heels died away.

_Slip right through your fingers._

Not exactly, Brennan thought.

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Neither of them had spoken a word in the past hour. Booth navigated his nondescript black SUV through traffic, winding his way through the lines of vehicles. He took a quick look at his passenger, who was curled up in their seat, head resting against the cool plexi-glass of the window,

"You okay?"

"Yeah," Was the quiet answer. Booth, pulling the SUV to a stop at a red light, reached across and patted their knee. Long, quiet moments ticked by before he ventured to say anything again,

"I've gotta stop by the lab for a minute," He gently depressed the accelerator pedal as the light turned green, "You can wait in the car if you want."

Again, the only answer he received was, "Yeah."

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Booth found Brennan bent over a box in her office. After darting a few covert glances around, he settled his large hands on her hips. She yelped and whirled around; fist poised, ready to attack. When she saw it was him, the fist dropped and her arms went around his neck.

"You're back," She murmured happily, brushing her face against the soft cotton of his shirt. Remembering herself, remembering where they were, she pulled away. Taking careful stock of him, she saw the dark bags under his eyes, the grimace lines in his face pulling at his down drawn mouth, his expression somber, "You look tired."

"I am," He exhaled hard, rifled a hand through his all ready tousled hair. He wished he could take her back into his arms, but he knew she wouldn't allow it. He rolled his sleeves up to his elbows, "How're you?"

"I'm okay," A sudden flash rippled through her, wanting to brush back the hair that had fallen errantly across his forehead. She settled for placing a hand on his wrist, lightly stroking her fingertips across his skin, "You should go home and get some sleep."

"Wanna come tuck me in?" He asked teasingly, trying to infuse their ordinary banter into an extraordinary situation. At her aggravated look, Booth laid his hand over hers and sighed, "I had to see you first."

"Is she with you?" Brennan asked curiously, glancing around him towards the door. His hand closed over hers and he pulled her with him as he sat down on the couch that was for once not cluttered with papers.

"In the car," Visions of the past weeks danced through his head. The darkness, the quiet, the sickness, the crying, the death. In all his years dealing with death, he didn't think that one had ever affected him like this. He wanted to banish it all from his memory, block it out and forget. But he couldn't. Couldn't change it, couldn't fix it, making him feel inadequate and helpless. He scrubbed a hand over his face, trying to push back and bury the emotional keg that was about to explode, "She's just a baby Bones, and-"

Two small, strong arms circled his neck again, gently but firmly pulling his head to hers, "It's okay Booth." His forehead rested against her collarbone. She slowly swayed back and forth, keeping her arms around him.

"She's just a baby, and everything's been taken from her," He muttered, his voice choked with grief, "That damn disease took it all away."

"She's still got you," Brennan murmured, her head bent low to his. She wanted nothing more than to soothe the man in her arms, and was completely unaware as to how. Making empty promises and muttering 'it's okay' into his ear weren't going to bring him the kind of relief he needed. She knew about losing the ones you loved, and having nobody else.

"A fine substitute I'll make," He groaned and started to back away, slightly embarrassed by his display of emotion. She only let him pull back far enough so she could see into his eyes.

"They obviously appointed you for a reason Booth," She admonished fervently, "You love her. You're a good dad."

His eyes, too brown for her own good, were liquid. They slid closed, then open again. She passed a thumb under each, rubbing away the residual moisture, "There're some people who don't think I can do this," He whispered.

"Who?" She tipped her head forward so her forehead rested against his. She hated seeing any kind of pain on his face.

"Tammy's brother and his wife, they say that they can giver her a better, more stable life than I can," Booth swallowed hard, the lump that had situated itself in his throat was showing no signs of receding, " 'Cause they're married and they don't have jobs like mine."

"You capture murderers," Brennan blurted, "You hunt them down and bring them to justice. You save lives, you rescue people."

"I put myself in danger on a daily basis Bones," Booth appreciated her blunt words; they were so fierce, so heartfelt in her belief of them. He needed that, "There could come a day where I-"

Her lips smashing onto his squelched his argument, "Don't ever say that," She commanded, her grey eyes boring into his, "Don't ever say that." Alternate endings to his sentence flew through her head; _get hurt_, _get shot_, _don't come home_. Those were things she never wanted to think about, never wanted to hear. They weren't allowed to live anywhere outside the irrational part of her mind that fear occupied.

He conceded for now, knowing that the subject would come up again. This wasn't the kind of topic that just went away. It would lurk in the shadows, waiting for the right time to wedge itself in, "I have to go, she's sleeping in the car," He leaned in for another kiss.

"You _can _do this Booth," She murmured against his lips, "They're wrong. Don't let it get to you because they're wrong."

They had barely been able to catch a dozen frenzied moments alone together in the past three weeks, the last week and a half having past with none at all. Now, in the semi-darkness of her office, they caught another one. They parted ways, not knowing when the next would come.

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Like it? Hate it? Let me know. Should I continue?


	2. Promises

**Title: **Promises

**Summery: **If one makes a promise, must they keep it?

**Disclaimer: ** Don't own them, wish I did, but I don't. Oh the things I could do…

**Author's Notes: **Just a quick note to say merci to everyone who took the time and effort to push the little blue/purple button at the bottom of the page! Reading them makes my days so much better! I'll admit that I've been a bit of a lurker lately, skimming my alerts, but no posting or reviewing. I'll try to do better!

Oh, and I promised myself I wouldn't do anything with _Mistake? _until I got a chapter or so going on this. But it _is_ coming! Do not despair! Oh, and so no one is confused, the italics are flashbacks.

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He had shown her to a room with cornflower blue walls and beige wood trim, "It'll look better once we get your stuff in tomorrow," He promised. She hadn't cared, simply flopped onto the bed, pulling the itchy orange and brown plaid blanket over her head. Maybe if she fell asleep fast enough, she could escape this horrible nightmare, and Mom would still be alive and she wouldn't be sick and everything would be right again. She could feel the tears dripping from her eyes again. It seemed as if that was all she did now. Nothing was all right. She had spent the last year knowing that, ever since the day she had walked into the room and Mom had uttered three life-changing words. _I have cancer_. Her world had fallen apart that day, never to be rebuilt. It couldn't be erased, couldn't be fixed.

Tears poured from her eyes, tasting salty as they gathered at the corners of her mouth. Burying her face in a pillow, she muffled the wails she wished she could hold in. Why did it have to hurt so much? Why did it have to happen at all? What had she ever done to deserve this?

Somewhere, in the midst of the tears, the whimpers and the dull ache in her chest, exhausted, she fell asleep.

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Booth hadn't fallen asleep. Hadn't been able to. His head was too crammed full to sleep. He'd tossed and turned for a while, then given up. Propping his hands under his head, he let his mind wander where it wanted.

It wandered to Bones. Things between them had blossomed so quickly, it surprised them both that still no one had caught on. The first time anything had actually _happened_, they had been in such close proximity to someone else, the person most eager on bringing them together. Booth remembered it as if it had replaced the gloom of the day before.

"_Are you okay Bones?"_

_Brennan's eyes were still glued to the door Angela had just exited, "I'm fine Booth," She said absently._

"_You don't seem fine," He prodded, "You've been wearing your 'I'm uncomfortable' face ever since I got here," His mind searched for a reason, finally hitting on something, " If it's because I wouldn't stand outside while you got changed, I'm s-"_

"_She didn't want me to hug her," Brennan's whispered words stopped him cold. He shifted so he was sitting closer to her, his arm propped across the back of the sofa-turned-bed she had been tucked into when he arrived. _

"_Last night, right before I called you," She picked at a loose thread from one of the cushions, "She said that the only reason that I would be sympathetic towards her is if I really thought Kirk was dead."_

_His fingers were dangerously close to her shoulder, "Do you think Kirk is dead?" _

"_Beside the point," She waved a hand in dismissal, "Why am I telling _you_? You don't care."_

_He snorted, "Of course I care Bones, would I be here if I didn't care?" A few wayward curls brushed his hand, "Would I ask if I didn't care?"_

_She sighed, "Fine," The way she said it, one would think she was confessing her deepest, darkest secrets. _

"_Don't inconvenience yourself," He muttered begrudgingly. _

"_Do you want to hear this or not?" He waved her onward, "I'm not an outwardly affectionate person," Booth choked, coughing until he was red in the face. He leaned forward, trying to take deep gulps of air. Brennan looked concerned, "Are you okay?" She asked, thumping him on the back. _

"_I'm okay," He gasped, "You were saying?"_

"_Am I heartless?" She asked, a look of complete nervousness plastered on her face. Her obvious need for reassurance was blaring at him, making him feel uncomfortable and pleased all at the same time. ._

"_No, you're not heartless," He answered immediately. Thinking for a moment, "You're kinda untouchable, maybe a little stand-offish."_

"_I like my space," She stated quickly._

"_Yeah," He was dancing around what he was thinking, wondering how much she would hurt him if he said it, " But maybe you could, you know, be a little more-"_

"_What!" She shifted impatiently, her chest accidentally making contact with his upper arm. Both looked surprised at the other._

"_Well, it wouldn't hurt for you to loosen up a little Bones, being touched ain't gonna kill ya," He flinched away from the expected blow._

"_It's isn't, and there is nothing wrong with me," She started to jump up, but he grabbed her arm. She stared down at his offending hand. _

"_I didn't mean to upset you," He began slowly, "But you asked me a question and I gave you an answer. I can't help it if you don't like it."_

"_I'm sorry you think I'm an emotionally bankrupt automaton!" She tried to haul her arm free, but he used her sudden movement to his advantage, causing her to tumble back down onto the sofa bed. He pinned her there with one muscular leg thrown over hers,_

"_I never said that Bones," He was going to be calm about this, he was going to stay calm, he assured himself. He wasn't going to think about the position they were in, wasn't going to think about where her legs were in relation to parts of himself, "What I said was- what I meant was, how can the ones you care about know it if you don't show them?"_

_Still struggling to free herself from his grasp, she huffed, "Why didn't you just say that?" Both tried to ignore how close her knee was to a certain part of his anatomy. _

"_I was afraid you'd hit me," He answered honestly. The angry expression on her face dissipated, and her eyes softened into something that looked a little _too _good to Booth. _

"_I'm not going to hit you," She smiled; lulling him into thinking it was safe. He released her, and she shoved him so hard he landed on the floor._

_Pulling himself into a sitting position on the wood plank floor, he pointed an accusing finger, "You liar."_

_She glared down at him, "I didn't say I wouldn't push you."_

_Grumbling, Booth climbed back onto the sofa. He flopped back and crossed his arms petulantly. They stared at the wall across the room from them for a long time, feigning acute interest in the painting of a desert flower that hung there._

_Booth was aware of every little move she made. From the twitch of her foot to the flick of her fingers tucking her hair behind her ear. Something made him want to twist around and do it for her. He had been trying to stomp out these kinds of feelings for Bones for a fair bit of time. They would never be reciprocated; Bones went for the uber smart types, ones that were exactly like her and wouldn't push her from her comfort zone. He was sure that everything he did nudged her closer to the edge of that zone. How could he ever think that somehow _she_ would be interested in _him

_Completely unexpectedly, Brennan pivoted sideways, grasped his face between her hands, and, taking a deep breath, planted her lips on his. _

Whoa _was all that would come to Booth's mind. What in the _hell _was she doing? It was obvious what she was doing. _She's kissing you, you idiot!_ something inside of him screamed. Mentally shaking himself, he took advantage of the opportunity he wasn't sure would present itself again. His hands grabbed her hips, hauling her to him, and his mouth took control of the kiss. Their mouths dueled, each wanting to be the dominant one. When the kiss finally broke, both breathing heavily, he heard her whisper, "How's that for showing?" _

His thoughts were dragged away when he heard her muffled cries. He jackknifed from his bed and was down the hall in seconds. Standing in the doorway, from the slivers of light from the window, he could see her thrashing around under the covers.

"Chloe," He perched on the edge of her bed, "Sweetie, wake up, it's just a dream." He gently shook her shoulders.

Tears were streaming down her face as her eyes slid open. Cold sweat beaded on her face. Her eyes were scared and sad and she shook. Booth gathered her close, "Shhh, baby you're safe, it was just a dream."

She gulped and hiccupped, her face against his shoulder, "I saw Mom," She sobbed, "She was on this ledge and I was on the other side, and her side started to crumble and she fell. She looked so scared," Booth stroked her hair off her clammy skin, "I couldn't save her."

Booth didn't know what to say. He didn't know what would take away the pain, what would fix it. He hated himself for it. He cradled the weeping child against him, rocking her gently. Stroking her hair back off her sweaty forehead, he pressed a kiss to the top of her head. Clenching his eyes shut, he buried his face in her hair, willing himself not to join her in her watery release. The sobs began to lessen, and soon tired brown eyes gazed forlornly up at him,

"Will you sing for me?" Her voice was so small; _she _was so small. She wanted him to sing for her, like he had when she was little, when he'd been there for her in the dark, scaring away the monsters and comforting her frights.

"What'd you wanna hear sweetie?" He asked softly, fingers still brushing back her hair.

"Everybody Hurts," She whispered, cuddling close. He was safe, his presence comforting. The one thing she had left. The one _person_ she had left. Mom was gone, her father she had never known. It was always him there, filling the void. She couldn't hold on tight enough.

His arms surrounding her, his voice enveloped her. In the soothing lull he created, she managed to grasp sleep again.

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"Can you handle that one by yourself?" Booth asked, grunting as he hefted a large box through the room.

"I got it," Chloe carried a smaller one in behind him. The dream, the nightmare really, that she had been visited with had come before. But she hadn't said a word to him. If he knew, it would only make him feel worse. She knew how much he had cared about Mom, had listened carefully to stories, had been strategically placed when they spoke. It hurt, like an ache that would never go away, to think about the last time she had stood just outside the room and listened. Mom's voice pleading and tearful, Uncle B's broken and mournful, things she wasn't used to hearing in either. The last moments she had spent herself with her mother haunted her; she couldn't shake the memory.

"_Baby, I need you to promise me something," Mom took hold of her hand, struggling to keep upright._

"_What is it?" Chloe had to stop herself from trembling, had to be strong, or at least look it. For Mom._

"_When I go," She began, then paused to catch her flagging breath. _

_Chloe used the opening to protest, "No Mom, you're not going anywhere," She felt stupid as the words left her mouth, for they were wrong. Mom _was _going. Somewhere she couldn't follow._

"_When I go," Mom repeated softly, "You're going to be sad. And that's okay, that's natural. But you have to promise me that you won't be sad forever."_

_No response would, could come from Chloe. How could she make a promise she could never keep? _

"_Baby please," Mom was begging, scaring Chloe. She felt like a cold hand had grabbed hold of her and was slowly squeezing the life out of her, "I need to know you'll be okay. Promise me Chloe."_

_Her voice was choked with sobs, her chin wobbling, "I promise Mom. I promise," She hid her face in the sheet beside her mother's hip, shaking. _

"_I love you baby," She heard Mom whisper weakly, gently patting her head. Mom was crying too. Slowly Mom's hand stilled until it rested heavily, motionlessly on top of her head. A sudden flare of beeps from the machines made Chloe spring up._

"_Mom?" She placed a hand on her mother's cool cheek, "Mom?" Her voice trembled, the words almost painful, "Mommy!"_

_The room became a blur of white coats, and strong arms wrenched her away from her mother's still form, even as she fought to return. _

"_Chlo," Croaked the voice from the one who held her. She stopped flailing, and clutched him as hard as she could, her limbs feeling as jelly. She couldn't keep herself upright. He held her, arms wrapped tightly around her. _

_Everyone, everything, in the room stilled. As the monitor hummed, the image on it a straight, green line, a defeated voice announced, "Time of death, 11:02 am."_

"_No!" Chloe wailed, sagging into her uncle's arms, "I promised," She sobbed, "I promised," She repeated it over and over again, his voice droning on in her ear, she not comprehending the words. _

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"_Seeley, you have to promise me," Tammy reached over the guardrail from her hospital bed, her frail fingers with translucent skin topping Booth's strained knuckles, "Promise me you'll take care of my baby."_

"_Take care of her yourself," He answered hoarsely, covering her hand with his, then whispered, "You know I will."_

"_I'm dying Seeley," Tammy said, matter-of-factly, her voice wavering, having barely come to terms with the realization herself. _

"_Don't say that," His voice cracked, let emotion slip through, tears pooling in his eyes, "You can beat this Tam."_

_She shook her head, "I'm dying and it's hell. I just want it to be over," She tried to tighten her hand, but there was no strength left, "But how can I leave her? I'll never get to see her grow up, I'll never get to see her graduate, or go to college, or get married, or have kids," She could barely squeeze out the words, but she had to say them, "I'll miss so much. I love her so much."_

_Booth couldn't say anything. He wanted to, _had to_, but there were no words, "She loves you. I love you."_

"_I love you too Seels," Tammy's breath became labored "Don't be sad forever. You both need to go on, to live your lives." She huffed, coughed. He saw the defeat in her eyes. _

_Booth bit through his lip, drawing blood. A salty metallic taste swirled in his mouth, "Don't talk Tam, save your strength."_

"_For what?" She demanded harshly, arching up from the bed. Falling back, unable to hold herself, she forced, "No, this has to be said. You both need to go on, okay? Promise me that this won't kill you too. Promise me that you won't let it get you too."_

_Booth closed his eyes, his throat feeling as if it had closed over, neither breath nor speech, neither exiting nor entering. His face contorted, tears splashed from his sealed eyes, "I promise," When he forced the words out, they were garbled, but coherent. It was as if his last hope fizzled out as he spoke. _

"_Good, good," Tammy lowered herself the rest of the way to the hospital bed, her hand still clasped in his. But the look in her eyes had changed. Now they were resigned, relieved, regretful. At peace. _

"Hey."

Booth looked up, grateful for the distraction, to see Brennan approach. Her auburn hair hung free, dangling over her shoulders. The leaves rustled as the slight breeze blew, ruffling the locks of her hair and the flowing purple top she wore. It wasn't extremely warm, but not quite cold enough to warrant a jacket. She pulled her hands from the pockets of her tight jeans, bringing them together at her middle.

"Hey," A tiny, involuntary grin formed, one that he had no control over when she was around, "What are you doing here?"

She stopped inches from him, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth, "I'm not sure," She slipped her arms around his middle, "I wanted to know you were all right."

Normally, his reply would be teasing, but he simply tugged her tight against him, enjoying the missed feeling of her body against his. They fitted together so well, "I'm okay."

"You still look tired," She observed critically, "Did you sleep last night?"

"Some," He admitted, tucking his chin to peer down at her, "Chloe had a nightmare," His grip shifted, cinching her closer. Her soft pewter eyes were locked with his deep chocolate ones.

Smoothing her thumbs over the still prominent bags under his eyes, she said, "That's understandable. Nightmares present, especially in young people, after one sustains severe emotional trauma. "

"Sure," Booth nodded, "Poor kid. I just want to make it go away, but I can't."

"Indeed," Brennan agreed, knowing the feeling. She had had it herself lately, about him. Her gaze left his eyes, and traveled downward, watching the tip of his tongue dart out and over his bottom lip. She began to feel very warm.

Booth seemed to know her thoughts, because smiling sultrily; he dipped his head to hers. The previously monitored tongue sought and was granted entrance into her mouth. She could feel his need for control, running along side his need for comfort, and allowed it. There were times where giving up control, her own primal need for dominance, was beneficial. He needed that control right now, when he was still reeling. An arm looped around his neck, her other hand stroked through his hair. His arms were doubled around her waist.

The patter of sneakered feet made them break away from each other. Coming apart quickly, they looked down to find Chloe, her big brown eyes wide, chestnut hair windblown over her face. She opened her mouth to speak, the closed it again. Her big eyes darted from Booth to Brennan expectantly.

Booth inhaled deeply, released the breath slowly. Taking a step towards Chloe, he took the girl's hand and tugged her closer.

"Chloe, this is Doctor Temperance Brennan," He introduced her formally, not knowing how else to, "Bones, this is my niece, Chloe."

"Pleased to meet you," While Brennan was debating on whether an adult was supposed to offer a handshake to a twelve-year-old, Chloe curiously asked Booth,

"Bones? I thought you said her name was Temperance."

Booth grinned, "It is, but I call her Bones. It's a nickname, like Chlo for you."

The girl seemed satisfied with that answer, Brennan noticed, having given up on the handshake debate. Chloe, eyes stoically blank, glanced Brennan up and down, measuring her with some child approval ruler, she supposed. There was something so much like Booth in her expression.

Content with the appearance of the visitor, Chloe offered her small palm politely, "Hello Doctor Brennan. It's very nice to meet you."

Brennan snuck a glance at Booth, who was beaming with pride, before enclosing the offered hand in hers, "It's very nice to meet you too Chloe," She thought the child very well mannered for an almost teenager, "You can call me Bren, if you want."

Chloe nodded, tucking the relinquished hand into the pocket of her baggy sweater. Doctor Brennan, Bren, didn't seem so bad. Now she had a face to the name (or nickname rather) that she had heard Uncle B utter occasionally.

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Brennan helped unload the rest of Chloe's belongings. With the extra hands, they were finished before expected, and in a rush of generosity, Brennan offered to take them out for dinner. Which is how they ended up at Wong Foos, each occupying a seat at the counter, Brennan and Chloe each on their own side of Booth. As they walked in, Sid took one look at them and asked, "You and the bone lady been keeping something from me Booth?"

After a quick introduction, Sid was off. Brennan and Booth chatted idly about nothing important, and Chloe soon zoned out from their conversation, her gaze inspecting, lingering briefly on anything that piqued her interest. For a while, she watched the paper lanterns strung throughout the room, watching the patterns of light emitting from them. The room was dim, the colors very laid back and restful.

"Here ya go darlin'," Sid placed a platter in front of her, containing fries and a cheeseburger. The top bun sat off to the side, a face gazing up at her from the patty. Lettuce for hair, ketchup for eyes, mustard for a nose, and a bit of onion for a smile. It was obvious a bit of effort went into it, "Thank-you," The tiniest of smiles adorned her face. She almost regretted smushing it with the bun to eat.

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Brennan watched Booth watch Chloe pick at her food. Booth himself had barely touched what Sid had set in front of him. Brennan swirled a few noodles around the tines of her fork, then lifted them to her mouth. Chewing, she heard Booth sigh,

"She doesn't have much of an appetite."

"Neither do you apparently," She motioned to his still mostly filled plate, "It's to be expected." She didn't know what else to say, and when she didn't, she retreated into spouting off scientific facts, "After emotional, or physical trauma, it's normal for a person to have trouble sleeping and/or eating."

"For how long?" Booth asked, forking up a bit of rice. He knew what she was doing, wrapping herself up in facts, when she didn't know what to say, what would be appropriate, what would be expected and acceptable.

"Many factors weigh in. It depends on the person, their emotional strength, the severity of the trauma-" She cut herself off, reaching over to lay a hand on his, "You're going to be fine. You both are. You'll see; it just takes a while."

He nodded, an affectionate glaze over his face as he looked from Brennan to Chloe, "I wouldn't wish this on anyone, especially not a kid."

"Neither would I," Brennan agreed, knowing the feeling. Her own childhood losses had been of the same variety, her parents' disappearance had followed her for years, and she had yet to fully accepted it. She wouldn't wish the same for the girl at the end of the counter.


End file.
